Enraptured
by Dally-Fang
Summary: She merely stared at him, enchanted by his sparkling, cerulean irises, engrossed by his dainty touches, fascinated by his constant smiles, enthralled by his positivity, enraptured by his liveliness, his creativity, his persistence, his electrifying aurora, his compassion and understanding and kind-heartedness. Series of Leah Clearwater drabbles.
1. Beautiful Lies

_Beautiful Lies_

Desperation and dejection inundated her.

Leah hysterically wailed and keened and squalled with despair when the convulsions she had been suppressing suddenly assailed her.

While bemoaning and floundering, she beseeched and supplicated with a higher force to alleviate the misery circulating her chest; she whined, but, with a final string of laments, she ascended and cleansed herself of her gloom.

Reluctantly, she faced Sam—her friend since birth, her _first_ confidant, her _first _boyfriend, her _first _kiss, her _first _love—and mutely complied and accepted his lies even as he withered under her stare, even as he rubbed the nape of his neck—a nervous tendency she had found adorable, had cherished and teased him for but now loathed—and lied with remorse marring his features.

Heart-broken, with her throat constricting and cramping and containing her, she regarded him as he instinctively eyed Emily, as he admired her high cheekbones, the natural glisten and liveliness of her eyes, her long, straight locks and stunning smile; she simply smiled, battling with her nerves, with her wretched heart, with the familiar sorrow, which dispersed to the very tips of her fingers, and accepted his beautiful lies.

His lies—mesmerizing and loving and oh so promising—no longer enlivened her; they invaded her, bombarded her, _killed her. _

She beamed, restraining herself from sniveling, from weeping, from confronting him. Instead, she chose to deteriorate spiritually—_silently_.

They were such beautiful lies after all.


	2. Best Friend's Duty

_Best Friend's Duty_

She wavered and wobbled but lumbered forward with her knees tottering and teetering, with her stare glazed over and her pupils dilated with adrenaline, with her lips temporarily etched with an elated beam; she screeched with joy, applauded to herself, and tittered with laughter, attracting the attention of the residents of that _fine _neighborhood.

"Leah, what are you doing?" he questioned as she shakily sauntered forward and lost her balance, prompting him to swoop down and sweep her off her feet. She cackled, clapped, and drowned with laughter—with _dark_ laughter, swamped by _bitterness_, submerged with _sorrow_, overpowered and overcome with long-term _misery_.

"Apparently, I can get drunk; it just takes a really, really long time," Leah divulged, giggling when he hastened inside his home while sagging his shoulders and shaking his head. "You're disappointed."

She pouted, eyes enlarging, hands quivering, throat aching—whether from the vodka or the turbulent emotions gushing from her heart, she did not know.

"A bit," he confessed as he laid her on his couch, ensuring her well-being before rubbing the bridge of his nose and flaring his nostrils. "You were doing so well. I really thought you were moving on, but I was mistaken."

"They're expecting a child," she stated without any of her previous humor. "They're also getting married. They announced it in front of everyone, and they stared directly at me, knowing that it would destroy me, knowing how it would affect me, and knowing that I would react badly. Why did they do it? Why do they continue to hurt me_?"_

He wordlessly consoled her, brushing away the fresh cascade of tears, skimming her cheekbones, smoothening her tousled locks, rubbing her heaving shoulders, placing her head on his chest, and never recoiling or retracting when her snot stained his shirt.

He was her best friend after all; it was his _duty_.

"Thanks, Drakon," she whispered heavily before reposing.

"You're welcome, darling," he responded with his lips hovering above her cheeks and with longing and affection blossoming in his chest.

But he was her best friend, so he banished those treacherous sentiments and comforted her when she whimpered in her sleep.

It was his duty after all.


	3. Good Girl

_Good Girl_

Leah Clearwater was a good girl—always attending church gatherings, always taking an active role in conducting lessons, always discussing His miraculous works, always arranging fundraisers, always participating in school activities, always receiving the highest grades, always running for student council, and always pleasing her family members and her friends and her boyfriend with her tranquil disposition. She was a good girl, complete with the polished hair, the glossy, pink lips, the long, fluttering eyelashes, and trendy clothes—always appropriate length, of course.

Leah Clearwater was a good girl.

Until her boyfriend disappeared and pursued her cousin; until he declared his undying affection for her cousin. Until her father died and her brother transfigured into a huge, hulking beast and her anguish prompted her to turn into a roaring monster. Until she cut her hair to her chin and her features hardened with grief and she unconsciously tore all her pieces of clothing and learned of her infertility and that_ damn_ imprinting process.

She was no longer a good girl; she never attended congregations concerning church, nor did she fundraise, nor did she have heated debates over the existence of her Lord, nor did she participate in school activities, nor did she receive the highest marks, nor did she run for student council, nor did she please her family members and her so called _friends_ and her cheating ex-boyfriend. She was the complete opposite with her tousled locks, chapped lips, steely, glowering gaze, and cropped clothing, which only covered the necessities.

Leah Clearwater was not a good girl.

She simply was not.

But when she met him, her status did not matter. He simply smiled, welcoming her despite her blatant revulsion with the imprinting process, wordlessly praising and cherishing her for her speed and strength and her warrior-like characteristics; he comforted her when she could no longer breathe properly, when she could no longer function and could only replay those _damn_ memories of sweaty, nervous hands intertwined with her own, of playful banter, of fresh kisses, and butterflies swarming the pit of her stomach. She would shrill and bellow and cry to the top of her lungs, but he would merely encircle her in his arms, allowing her to greedily absorb his warmth and find solace in envisioning swarthy arms encompassing her instead of pale ones.

Leah Clearwater was not a _good girl_.

But it no longer mattered anymore.

She was too shattered to care. Much too shattered.


	4. Enraptured

_Enraptured_

Temptation bloomed in her bosom when she noticed swift streaks of platinum maneuvering through the seedlings, soundlessly bewitching her, enticing her, and demanding her presence while pledging to aid her, to secure her safety and restore her previous sentiments. Enraptured by the professions, she followed. Her resentful disposition gradually faded.

Frantically, with adrenaline coursing through her body, Leah whizzed past the border separating the residential areas from the woods and pursued the playful presence. Faint, light-hearted laughter emerged from the soul of the timberlands, stimulating her.

Leisurely, she plodded forward and received his outstretched hand; she rested beside him on the grass, her head lying on his extended arm, her hands settling over his chest, and her gaze absorbing the beauty of nature.

A profusion of luminescent stars—which were bright and twinkled and flickered with glee, with a certain charm and playfulness that incited her to giggle—accompanied the sterling splendor that emanated from the full moon.

Drakon expressed his contentment by brushing stray strands of hair from her eyes. She merely stared at him, _enchanted_ by his sparkling, cerulean irises, _engrossed_ by his dainty touches, _fascinated_ by his constant smiles, _enthralled_ by his positivity, _enraptured_ by his liveliness, his creativity, his persistence, his electrifying aurora, his compassion and understanding and kind-heartedness.

Leah Clearwater was simply enraptured by him—by her soul mate, her imprint, _her Drakon_.


	5. A Lovely Dream

_A Lovely Dream_

A towering, regal man with prominent facial features traipsed forward; his jaw was square-shaped, his cheekbones were sharp, his dirty blonde hair was cropped and spiked to the side, and his eyebrows were broad and framed his azure eyes.

_Drakon_.

His cerulean eyes crackled with elation, projected his intense infatuation with her, exposed his contentment when she unconsciously stepped forward, exhibited his impatience with waiting and briefly revealed his admiration for her—for her strength and her compassion, her easy understanding and determination.

She inhaled sharply.

He moved forward, caressed her cheeks, flattened and straightened her hair, and grinned. With her heart hammering nosily in her chest, with her limbs growing jittery and shaky, and with butterflies erupting from her stomach, she instinctively inclined her head forward and wrapped her arms around his neck when his lips hovered above her own.

Smiling, he kissed her.

Leah reveled in the electricity coursing through her veins, in the thickness of the atmosphere, in the heat dispersing throughout her chest and extending to the very tips of her fingers; she indulged herself further by pressing herself to him, feeling the solidness of his chest, the strength in his arms, which were firmly wrapped around her waist. When her breath became ragged and unsteady, she retracted slightly but continued to keep her arms around his neck. Slowly, almost timidly, she touched the nape of his neck, feeling the softness of his hair and relishing in his comforting hold.

His azure eyes were clouded with tenderness, enhanced with joy, and brightened by positivity.

Suddenly, his frame disappeared, leaving behind only his peppermint fragrance.

She clutched her chest, frightened and disappointed by the dream. Beneath her, slumbering peacefully with his head lolling to the side and his hands firmly holding her waist, was Drakon. Her lips hovered above his cheeks before resting and lingering on his right one and moving onto the next.

His eyelids snapped open, revealing groggy eyes.

"Are you okay?" he questioned. A fresh wave of nerves tackled her.

"I'm fine," she whispered. "I just had a dream, and it was really lovely."

"That's good, darling," he murmured, eyelids drooping. "Go back to sleep. Maybe your dream will reappear."

"Maybe," she stated before nestling herself in the crook of his neck and accepting the affection flourishing in her chest.

Soon, her _lovely dream_ would become a _reality_.


	6. A New Beginning

_A New Beginning_

Leah giggled with mirth sparking and sparkling in her gaze, with her stomach aching with overexertion from simpering and expressing her elation, and with her throat stinging and throbbing from whooping and boisterously encouraging her bouncing, tittering friend, who draped herself over her flushed boyfriend—a tall, swarthy man with simmering, sterling irises and rouge-stained cheeks; she smooched him, inciting shrill hoots and catcalls. He re-emerged, eyes glazed over, lips swollen, and hands instinctively encircling his unruly girlfriend—a stunning, platinum-haired girl whose head barely reached his chest.

"Your sister and caffeine don't mix well together," Leah remarked before laughing.

"No, they certainly do not," Drakon affirmed, grinning with genuine joy. "Darling, I'm really glad you decided to come. It wouldn't have been the same without you."

His eyes increased in intensity, causing her cheeks to become embellished with rouge, causing her to splutter slightly and redden further.

"Ten seconds!" Carabelle shouted.

"Ten!"

"I'm glad I came," Leah confessed, growing soft-spoken.

"Nine!"

Drakon neared her, tipped his head and inclined his body forward, enticing her with his natural peppermint fragrance.

"Eight!"

His forehead rested her own; he tentatively smiled, allowing her time to retract. She didn't want to.

"Seven!"

She timidly beamed, growing breathless by his tightening hold.

"Six!"

His feathery touches alleviated her raving nerves; his soft, reassuring strokes aroused her true sentiments, exciting her, tempting her into breaking out of her shell, and coaxing her into tilting her head properly. Leah awaited, with bated breath, with trembling fingers and knobby knees, for their lips to finally connect, for their chests to press against one another, for their souls to _intertwine_ with one another—to finally rest and sigh with satisfaction.

"Five!"

Leah could not resist the temptation of caressing his cheeks with her palms.

"Four!"

Gradually, her palms slithered across his cheeks, down his throat, and behind his neck, brushing and teasing the soft hair on the nape of his neck.

"Three!"

His hair was as soft as it had been in her dream.

"Two!"

His azure eyes were shining with tenderness, radiating happiness, and brightening and illuminating his face.

"One!"

He captured her lips, kissing her with gentleness, savoring and reveling in the soft texture of her lips. Leah rejoiced and relished in the tide of emotions gushing from her chest, in the thundering roar of her heart, in the fondness sprouting from her heart, in the warmth of his body, in the celebratory atmosphere, in his fingers tightening over her waist, bringing her closer and closer until she practically became a second layer of skin. When she desperately needed to breathe, she moved away slightly, but her fingers proceeded to play with the hair resting on his neck. His forehead touched hers, and his eyes—glowing and gleaming with a soft radiance—sought her own.

"Here's to _a new beginning_," Leah promised, beaming. "To a new, brighter beginning together."

"To a new beginning," Drakon repeated, smiling broadly. "Together."


	7. Imprint

_Imprint_

He possessed azure eyes, which were clouded with darkness, poisoned by bitterness and hatred, dimmed of their livelihood and positivity, and overshadowed by his trepidations.

She had not imprinted; she simply had not.

But her heart roared with frustration and overwhelmed her with a fresh wave of emotions, which flooded her chest, dispersed to the pit of her stomach, filling her with nerves and forgotten butterflies, and crawled up her throat, strangling her, containing her, vexing her. She had not imprinted. A horrid migraine attacked her, causing the veins on her head to vibrate erratically and pulsate.

She had not imprinted!

Her body convulsed, shuddered extremely, trembled to the point where her temples burned, her stomach became queasy with nerves, and her head whirled from dizziness. She plunged to the ground, fingers scratching her chest, eyes gathering moisture, bosom heaving in an unsteady pace. Screeching, imploring, crying, she accepted Fate.

_She had imprinted_.

And her heart purred with approval.


	8. Darling

_Darling_

In an instinctive manner, Leah retreated, with her pupils dilating as her animalistic side resurfaced and wordlessly warned the beings of her gift, of her ability to defend herself and battle if the need arose. With coiled muscles and an unwavering stare, she lunged.

Laggardly, her opponent sagged forward with the intention of puncturing her, of pelting her with his paws, of terminating her, but when he caught a glimpse of her hands flying to his neck, he retreated. Leah persecuted him and swiftly prodded him before indulging herself further by quickly clamping her hands over his shoulders and threatening to dislocate them; her serrated dentures perforated his flesh, thriving on the spasms that immersed his corpse, reveling fully on the agony sweeping over his features, and longing to permanently imprint the mark of her ivories onto his flesh for maiming her. With resentment bombarding her, she lacerated him and gnarred when he sprung forward with the intention of logging her away. Speedily, she dislodged her gall for the creature, for his group of cunning monsters, for his distrustful kind, and rendered him incapable of battle after clawing through his chest. The ceaseless thump, thump, thump, coming from his chest notified her of his condition.

An incensed bellow emanated from the alpha female, who, after thundering and instructing her inferiors to not interfere, traipsed forward with the intention of challenging her. Leah accepted. As she circulated her adversary, she recorded the manner in which she favored her left leg over her right, her distorted gaze, and her unconditional devotion to her mate. Her foe lanced herself on top of Leah, and, despite her previous knowledge of the behavior displayed by vengeful mates, she projected Leah to the far side of the vicinity. With impressive speed, the alpha female slogged, whopped, and showered her with her protective liquids. Leah barely harnessed her wails.

Leah repeatedly belted and socked her rival until she blundered. Instantaneously, she shimmed under her contender, clouted the side of her frame, which resulted in her deflating, and bonked her until she could no longer rise. When the alpha female blanched and mewled, her mate brandished all the strength he possessed and, once he was fully regenerated, he clubbed Leah. Using his advantage to its maximum capacity, he severed Leah's flesh by masticating it and injecting his venom into her bloodstream. She blared when the toxins saturated her organs. The oxygen flowing through her system promptly rushed from her lungs, causing her to bobble.

Bordering on delirious, she yipped and wilted. Suddenly, the pressure on her body disappeared.

With agility and expertise, Drakon slew his overly confident opponents from behind, extinguishing their lives with calculated swiftness, manipulating their frames to sweep the remaining griping critters, who, after saturating their fangs with venom, catapulted themselves in their direction; he captured a twisted beast, fractured her spine, swept her from side-to-side, which banged and battered her comrades, and quickly impelled Leah away from the heat of violence.

"Darling, darling, you have to stay awake," he demanded. "Darling, listen to me. Please, darling."

A potent twinge tormented the pit of her stomach, hindering her from listening to her savior, or catching the conversations brewing beyond the medical wing, or peering at her salvager, who, after perceiving her shriveling frame, grew agitated. Her despair spanned across her form, blinding her from reality.

After resurfacing from her hypnotic state, she contorted her facial features, groused, and scrutinized Drakon, who very warily moved forward.

"I'm sorry," she apologized sincerely, "for treating you badly. I'm really sorry."

"It's fine," he amended. "I understand."

"Thank you for saving me," Leah added. "I'm sorry that I can't offer you what you want, but I can offer you friendship, especially after what happened."

"Of course, darling," he said, smiling broadly. "All I want is your friendship."

"So friends?" Leah questioned nervously.

"Friends," he stated, grinning. "And I hope you don't mind, but from now on, I'm calling you darling."

She chuckled weakly; her stomach ached and groaned from overexertion.

"It's fine," she replied honestly.

_Darling sounded lovely to her_.


	9. An Author

_An Author_

Uncomfortably, she cleared her throat, wrung her wrists and finally captured his hand, seizing his complete attention.

"When you asked me what I wanted to be before all of this happened, I didn't answer, but I want to now," Leah confessed rapidly with her words slurring slightly, her slow, steady breaths transforming into hurried pants, and with her chest ascending and descending in a frantic manner. "An author. I wanted to be an author. I love writing and reading and drawing illustrations for books. But, I stopped writing and I became angry when I realized that I couldn't go to college to major in English and writing. I wanted to publish my works and write freely, but I can't. When I changed, I couldn't write anymore. I was just too angry and I'm still too angry. Anything I write comes out in angry fragments."

"One day, darling, you'll be able to write," Drakon persuaded her, calming her down. "I'm sure what you've written—those angry fragments, as you call them—are fantastic. If you connect them all together, I'm sure you could create a story. I know that you will become an author because you are a strong, persistent person."

Slowly, he embraced her, resting his chin on top of her head and encompassing her waist with his fingers. She sighed, relieved that the pressure that had previously hovered above her shoulders had lessened in strength.

"I need to go, darling, but I'll visit you tomorrow," Drakon stated, smiling daintily. "Have a good night."

"You too," she mentioned as he exited.

With jittery nerves, she grabbed her fragmented works and, with determination growing in her chest, she connected the phrases; she created an angst-filled character, who, slowly, with the aid of true friends, blossomed into a lovely woman.

_Leah would become an author_. She definitely would.


	10. Fever

_Fever_

A tall, stalwart form, encompassed and engulfed completely by a bundle of blankets, quavered and shivered erratically with his pallid eyelids fluttering and drooping in an unsteady fashion; he hacked, trembling and exerting excessive pressure on his shaky appendages. Drakon was almost translucent with perspiration trickling from his forehead, heat radiating from the top of his head, stomach clenching and queasy, bodily temperature shifting drastically, and with dark, contrasting circle forming underneath his eyes.

Leah stood rigidly, appalled by his deteriorating health.

Gradually, she unraveled her nerves and plodded forth with her heart jouncing, with her fingers vibrating, with her gaze unwillingly gathering moisture; she halted when his somber eyes appraised her, wadding her with a sense of familiarity and welcomeness.

To provide the rest of his tremulous form with heat, Leah encircled him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and watching with dreary eyes as he nested himself further into her hold.

"You're going to be alright," Leah soothed, stroking his sweaty forehead until he slumbered. "You're going to be alright, Drakon. I swear."


	11. Deserving Happiness

_Deserving Happiness_

Weeping quietly, with snot rushing from her nostrils and with red-stained cheeks, she proceeded to sprint away from the marriage ceremony; the sound of the church bells, of their proclamations of love, of the quiet, pity-filled whispers, continued to flow through her ears. She sniveled, chest heaving erratically, hands clenching and unclenching with humiliation and rage, eyes stinging and reddening as her tears inundated her. Insufflating profusely, she deliberately slowed down when familiar footsteps followed her.

Warm, welcoming arms encompassed her, soothing her, sedating her, and settling her against the crook of his neck. Leah surrendered, tired of constantly fighting, tired of constantly having to repress herself, of having to harness her true emotions; she simply accepted the gloom and misery spreading across her chest. She consented and permitted her tears to stumble down her cheeks.

The soft vibration of his chest—the comforting tone of his voice, the serenity of his whispers, the natural smoothness and firmness of his arms, the faint whir of his steady breaths, and the warmth of his body—successfully hushed her restless, riotous sentiments. When she composed herself, she gradually extracted herself from him; she bowed her head, slightly ashamed by her unstable display, but he lifted her chin with his fingers and, with his sparkling, cerulean irises, wordlessly restored her confidence.

"Everything will be okay, Leah," Drakon murmured. "You are a strong, lovely woman who deserves happiness."

And she smiled genuinely.

She, Leah Clearwater, _deserved happiness_.

So she embraced him tightly, refusing to let him leave.


	12. Your Wish

_Your wish_

Traversing the timberlands, she proceeded to plod through the saplings, sluggishly weaving through the foliage with her second family, giggling, chortling, glowing with happiness, and jumping through fallen trunks; she paraded with Carabelle, who suddenly squealed when Artemis tickled her sides and dashed away, cackling with laughter. Drakon seized her hand, helping her through and snorting when she switched positions with him; she burst through the tree-line, whooping and whistling as she savored the sudden blast of heat.

The distinct scent of sea salt—combined with a warm breeze, white sand, which squished under her bare feet, a soft spray of ocean water, a faint stirring of the ocean-life beneath the surface, which created gentle ripples on the surface—caused her to hop with elation; she attentively brushed the surface with her palms, gaping with wonder at the surreal beauty of the beach.

"Thank you for bringing me here," Leah vocalized before hugging him and burying her face in the crook of his neck.

"You're welcome, darling," Drakon recited, kissing her cheeks. "We can come here whenever you want. _Your wish is my command_."

And the tenderness swirling in his eyes reassured her of his intentions.


	13. Apology

_Apology_

Growing extremely flustered, he retracted his twitchy hands from her shoulders and respired unsteadily. While smothering down her laughter, she boldly seized his sweaty hands, squeezed them, and then proceeded to place his arm around her shoulders; she laid against his chest, giggling when his cheeks blazed with embarrassment. Slowly, timidly, he eased into her comforting hold, smiling down at her and chuckling to banish his nerves away.

"You really are special, Leah—bold but sweet," he complimented. "I know that we have only been dating for a while, but I really love you, Leah."

"I love you, too, Sam," she uttered, grinning.

Her vision cleared and Drakon appeared before her. His features instantly hardened; his eyes became steely with frustration and sorrow, and his frame convulsed with rage.

"I can't do this anymore, Leah," Drakon commented, exhausted. "I really am trying to not get jealous, to not feel angry, or upset whenever you envision him instead of me. We're friends—I accepted it—but you can't rub him in my face; you can't rub your previous relationship with him in my face. I'm tired of pretending that it doesn't hurt. I'm tired of being used. I can't do this anymore, Leah. I think it would be best if we spent time away from each other. At least for a while. Or until you figure out what you want."

"But you promised that you would be there for me!" Leah exclaimed. "You can't leave, Drakon. Please."

"I'm so sorry, Leah, but I can't stand it when you envision him instead of me. You hug me but you're imagining him. You talk to me but it's not me that you're talking to. I tell you that I want to be with you for the rest of our lives, and you close your eyes and pretend that it's him instead of me. And I can't be Sam, Leah. I'm not Sam," he declared, distraught.

He withdrew.

And her heart roared with dismay.

"Please, please, don't leave!" Leah pleaded, encircling him from behind and preventing him from leaving. "I'll try! I'll try to change. Please! I'm sorry for treating you like this. It isn't fair. I'm so sorry. I'll be a better friend. I promise. I promise but please don't leave."

Slowly, painfully, he detangled her arms from his waist, and instead of retracting, he swiveled and embraced her tightly, sadly, but affectionately.

"Okay, darling," he murmured against her forehead. "I'll stay. But please don't pretend that I'm Sam. Please."

"I won't," she whispered, lips brushing his right cheek.

And she stared into his eyes and saw beautiful cerulean irises instead of dark ones. And when his lips grazed her forehead, she reveled in his embrace, in his warmth, in the tightness of his arms, in the steadiness of his frame. And when he held her she leaned against his pallid arms, ramming herself against his chest, against the crook of his neck. And when he stayed she admired his features—his palpitating eyelids, the creases on his forehead, the sharpness of his jaw, and the natural glow on his cheeks. And she silently apologized once more for poisoning such a man. And she apologized for ruining him. And she apologized for not seeing the treasure in front of her. And she kissed his cheek, comforting him in his sleep when his features contorted with affliction. And she apologized for not noticing that he constantly battled with his nightmares. And she apologized for not seeing him for him. For envisioning Sam instead of cherishing him.

He was not Sam.

He was Drakon.

And he was more than enough.


	14. Perfect Contrast

_Perfect Contrast_

Temptation budded and blossomed and finally flourished in her bosom when she noticed his hand twitching with anxiety.

She touched his hand before holding it firmly, anchoring him, wordlessly consoling and comforting him; he respired with steadiness, making her smile.

And he smiled back, staring at their intertwined hands.

His was light and hers was dark.

His was cold with fright and hers was searing warm.

His jittered and hers stayed still.

Their intertwined hands brought a broad beam to her lips.

They were different but they were a _perfect contrast_.


	15. Lila

_Lila _

Her name was Lila.

She was a budding beauty with long, dark eyelashes, which delicately brushed the tops of her rosy cheeks, a bundle of straight raven hair, luminescent, swarthy skin, and wide eyes—which were a_ blessed_ shade of caramel.

Her name was Lila.

Already, she had a_ sweet, placid disposition_. She meowed and mewled quietly instead of screeching to the top of her lungs. No, she was much too sweet to scream.

Her name was Lila.

She admired her mother, who, even though she had been in labor for hours, cradled her, nurtured her,_ loved her_. Slowly, she smiled with fatigue at her father, who swept her tendrils to the side, who wordlessly vowed to protect her, whose eyes sparkled with tenderness, with affection, _with love_.

Her name was Lila.

"Do you want to hold her?" he asked cautiously.

Unconsciously, she moved forward, receiving the young, yawning baby in her arms.

"She's beautiful," she commented without emotion.

Beautiful like _her mother_. Beautiful like_ Emily_.

Her name was Lila, meaning Lily, meaning beauty,_ meaning love_.

Her name was Lila.

It was the name she had chosen when _they _were going steady, but he had forgotten. It was _now_ the name that had appeared in a dream, had appeared casually, had sounded _nice and pleasant_.

_Her name was Lila_.

And she was_ not _her daughter.

But she was as_ beautiful _as a lily flower.


	16. A Younger Sister

_A Younger Sister_

An ethereal beauty with allusive, cobalt irises, flaxen ringlets, a flawless complexion, and a compassionate beam, gracefully ambulated toward her, accompanied by a sinewy man. With his swarthy flesh, dark eyebrows, masculine jaw, severe irises, and closely cropped hair, he resembled a member of the La Push pack. Only his sterling eyes cast him apart from her pack mates.

They were the embodiment of perfection with their perfectly contrasting personalities and appearances, with their mindfulness and their playful, affectionate interactions.

"Leah, this is my sister, Carabelle, and her boyfriend, Alcander," Drakon introduced, grinning and chuckling underneath his breath when his sister bounced forward with the intention of embracing her.

"My soul mate," Carabelle interjected. "It is an absolute pleasure to finally meet you, my dearest Leah! My brother certainly cannot stop speaking about you, and might I just add that you are just as beautiful as he described."

His lips broadened and widened instead of waning.

"She's impulsive but she means well," Alcander intervened, stabilizing his jittery girlfriend, who swatted his wondering hands, who punched her simpering brother on the arm, who swiveled and promptly seized her wrists, dragging her away from the joshing boys.

"Where are you going?" Drakon questioned.

"Far, far away," she stressed while towing her away and humming and catching brief glimpses of her stoic expression. "So, Leah Clearwater, what do you think of my brother?"

"He's a great friend—very understanding and sympathetic," Leah mentioned, growing anxious and agitated underneath her scrutinizing stare.

"You two are very close," she noted.

"I suppose we are," Leah responded slowly.

"And you don't feel anything for him?" Carabelle inquired.

"He's my friend—nothing more, nothing less," Leah clarified while refusing to acknowledge the sudden blast of heat spanning across her form.

"Well, you can continue to delude yourself, but eventually you'll realize that you have developed an affectionate relationship with him—not a friendly one, might I add," she declared while beaming brightly and exposing the dimples on the sides of her cheeks.

"But—"

"Even though you do not like him in that form yet, I do give you my blessing to be with my brother—if maybe some day you need it, which might be sooner than you would expect," Carabelle continued before tittering and encompassing her. "And I would like to welcome you to the family. It's a bit hectic and loud and odd but it's family. And family sticks together. And I would love to be like your sister-figure, even if I am, as the others say, impulsive and crazy. So family?"

Unconsciously, she encircled the younger, overly ecstatic girl, who whooped with elation.

"Just as long as you're the _younger sister_ and I'm the older one," Leah added, smiling further when she consented.


	17. Jealousy

_Jealousy _

She was a statuesque beauty with luminous onyx waves, which grazed the curve of her minuscule waist, a glowing complexion void of imperfections, a curvaceous figure, and strong facial features; she possessed bold eyebrows, long, flirty eyelashes, and incredibly stunning irises, which held the ocean's serene currents in their depths.

She tittered with laughter—which resembled a bewitching, enchanting melody—and brushed her fingers along the sides of his cheeks, lingering on the corners of his eyes.

Leah did not like her—at all. She simply did not.

With her serenity, her harmonious tenor, her surreal beauty, she resembled a living, breathing porcelain doll—fragile and easily breakable, fake and detached of any and all emotions.

Leah did not like her—at all.

"If I didn't know any better, I would say that you, Leah Clearwater, are experiencing a very common emotion—jealousy. Who would have thought!" Carabelle teased.

"Shut up, Cara," Leah stated before quivering and then quavering more intently with frustration.

His responding laughter boomed across the vicinity, making her convulse further. Oh how she loathed that despicable, conniving siren! Oh how she loathed that deceitful, lying creature with the face of an angel but with the heart of a demon!

How could he not see the temptress in front of him!

"Leah, I would love for you to meet one of my childhood friends, Evangeline," Drakon introduced. "Evangeline, this is Leah."

And his voice softened. And his irises blazed with elation. And his gaze greedily absorbed her natural beauty.

"Oh, Leah, it is an absolute pleasure to finally meet you! I've heard so many positive stories about you, and I've been pestering Drakon to let me meet you, but he's always been afraid of what I would tell you. I guess he thinks he's in the safe zone with you; there's no turning back!" Evangeline exclaimed before engulfing her. "Oh, you're positively radiant! And you have brown eyes! Did you know that Drakon loves brown eyes? Well, he does! Always has!"

His cheeks were stained with rouge.

"Oh, he's embarrassed," Evangeline commented before simpering. "Men tend to get embarrassed easily."

"Your boyfriend did tend to get flustered easily before he asked you to be his girlfriend," Carabelle commented mindlessly before glancing at Leah, who glowered at her, silently threatening her for the momentarily confusion.

"Drakon, can you bring us water?" Evangeline inquired. "I'm dehydrated from the long journey here."

He consented, stimulating a sudden uproar.

"Why did you lie to me?" Leah demanded.

"I never did!" Carabelle defended. "I just didn't say that she was a long time friend, or that she had a boyfriend, or that they have absolutely no chemistry together, because I wanted to see your reaction."

"Leah, before you get angry, listen to our explanation," Evangeline started, quieting her. "If you had not been exposed to this situation, you wouldn't have opened your eyes and noticed that you don't simply like him as a friend! Jealousy, my dearest Leah, is helpful in these types of cases."

"But I don't like him," Leah disclosed.

"Whatever you say," Carabelle mentioned.

"Please, Leah, open your eyes; he's a great guy," Evangeline pleaded.

When he returned, she could not stop staring at him.

_Jealousy had truly opened her eyes_.


	18. Feverish Dream Chapter 1

_Chapter 1:_

After encompassing La Push, blustering clamors emerged from the soul of the timberlands. Frantically, with her heart fluctuating erratically as adrenaline coursed through her system, Leah whizzed past the border separating the residential areas from the woods and blindly pursued the odorless infiltrator. Abruptly, the blares vanished, and she, after regarding the bare terrain, respired shallowly, perturbed by the abnormal behavior displayed by her opponent.

Temptation blossomed in her chest as she perceived the swift streaks of platinum maneuvering through the seedlings, soundlessly bewitching her, enticing her, and demanding her presence while pledging to aid her, to secure her safety and restore her previous sentiments. Enraptured by the professions, she followed. Her resentful disposition toward her pack members for imprinting faded when a serene tenor consumed her, alleviating her into a hypnotic state. Leah gleefully consented.

* * *

><p>A profusion of umbra monitored her as she sluggishly ascended, recoiled, and, after deciding to elude the shadowy irises analyzing her critically, regarded the ample sapling behind her. A lucent radiance dispersed from the core of the topiary to the very roots, which stretched beyond the heart of the wildwood and pulsated. Imprudently, she percussed the roots and suppressed herself from shrieking when the bleariness in her eyes evaporated. Leah barely detained herself from expressing her trepidation when her senses progressed, her system soared, and her spirit returned.<p>

A beacon of hope transpired when the umbrage departed and an argent resplendence spurted from the land beyond the clearing. Growing increasingly inquisitive, Leah tracked the splendor, with her eyes continuously skating across the foreign territory to preserve her safety, and she sprung backwards when a melody resonated across the foliage. After inspiring, she closely perceived the divine being sailing from the multitude of penumbra, absorbing the lambent light, and materializing in front of Leah.

An ethereal beauty with allusive, cobalt irises, flaxen ringlets, a flawless complexion, and a compassionate beam, gracefully ambulated toward her, accompanied by a sinewy frame, which gradually discarded its shadowy tendrils. With his swarthy flesh, dark eyebrows, masculine jaw, severe irises, and closely cropped hair, he resembled a member of the La Push pack. Only his sterling eyes cast him apart from her pack mates.

"Who are you?" Leah inquired steadily.

"I am Carabelle and this is Alcander," she introduced. "It is a pleasure to welcome you into our lands. Would you care to accompany me?"

In an instinctive manner, Leah retreated, with her pupils dilating as her animalistic side resurfaced and wordlessly warned the beings of her gift, of her ability to defend herself and battle if the need arose. With coiled muscles and an unwavering stare, she rejected their offer.

"The Dark Forest is not a safe place, especially during these dire times. I would not be a considerate hostess if I did not extend the invitation of supplies and a shelter. I sincerely mean no harm," Carabelle uttered, "but if you feel strongly in your decision to reside in the Dark Forest, then I wish you luck and a valuable piece of advise: do not head to the edge of the woods, and if you are ever in need of assistance, summon your innermost thoughts. Miss, if you have decided to change your decision and wish to travel with us, you may do so."

"I hardly believe I will change my mind," Leah remarked before swiveling and galloping away from the abnormal beings, who, after perceiving her transfiguration in behavior, permitted the inkiness of the forest to devour them.

The umbrage rapidly dematerialized. As her headache increased in strength, as her tongue supplicated with her for a beverage, and as her paranoia derived from the foreign sensations she received, she sluggishly advanced. Half-heartedly, she pondered her exact location, but as she continued strolling further away from the soul of the Dark Forest, her motivation wavered. Cautiously, she halted and reclined on a trunk; her bare feet throbbed from the constant bangs she created while walking. As she revitalized herself, she encountered the placid murmur of a river. Quickly, with her teeth clattering and her heart walloping in her chest, she dashed toward the creek and shouted, pleased with her luck.

Greedily, she imbibed and indulged herself further by submerging herself. After regenerating, she constructed a refuge among the verdure, surveyed her environment, and allow her exhaustion to surge forward.

Speedily, she rose and scanned her environment. The puny hoots coming from the wildlife momentarily halted, and a new boisterous noise penetrated the silence. Leah attempted to phase, but her body refused to shift. While restraining herself from expressing her chagrin, she mounted a sapling and disguised herself with the foliage. Two hefty men occupied the space beneath her, searching, murmuring, and gesturing in the direction Leah had deserted. The youngest neared the brook and inspected the puddle she had produced before ruefully saying, "I fear someone has ingested the water from this rill, Calum."

"If one of our enemies has consumed the water, then I thank the Heavens for relieving us," Calum stated.

"But many foreigners travel to these lands to seek liberty and protection, Calum. I fear for their safety. Drinking the water from this river can lead to hallucinations and long-term consequences. We must ensure—"

"Celeus, we have very specific instructions to follow. We do not have time to find the source; we must continue with the plan and send for assistance after informing King Lynceus of the events occurring outside the kingdom," Calum disclosed before escorting his brother to their destination.

With quavering appendages, she descended from her refuge, attempted to sedate herself, and managed to pacify her raving sentiments for a short period of time. A turbulent tide soon washed over her. Her normally impeccable eyesight blurred before exhibiting disturbing images of savage animals lacerating her, of roguish individuals serrating her, of children diminishing, of her loved ones decaying, of an ocean composed of oddly hued vital liquids, which drowned her with inexplicable guilt and alarm.

As she contended with the poison extending across her body, she encountered blatant footsteps and raucous hollers—hollers that originated from her, hollers that attracted unwanted attention from unwelcome visitors. Induced with toxins, she clumsily careened away from the sources while seeking the edge of the timbers and warding off the visions of malicious creatures gnawing on her ankles by reminding herself of her condition. She darted across the vicinity, gaining speed and strength as her enemies pursued her.

As she neared the edge of the Dark Forest, the murkiness decamped and a dazzling luminosity peeked through the topiary.

"Stop! We only wish to aid you! Do not leave the Dark Forest!"

Leah burst through the softwood, briefly savoring the warmth spreading to the tips of her fingers. The huntsmen abruptly stopped at the tree-line, beseeching and admonishing her of the horrors awaiting her.

"Leave me alone!" Leah yelled before pivoting and shrieking when the hallucinations became more vivid.

A group of shrewd, sly immortals cantered forward and flanked their leader—a beast whose glower intimidated her; his eyes showcased the souls he had stolen, the lives he had ruined, the deaths he had eagerly caused. Leah squawked when the visions became realistic, when his experienced hands grappled her throat with strength, when his irises ignited with amusement and the souls swarming his pupils lamented.

"Plutus, unhand her!"

"She is valuable," Plutus insinuated. "If she was not valuable, a rescue team would not have been used. Who is she to King Lynceus?"

"Unhand her!"

As his fingertips tightened around her throat, as the spirits pooling his eyes howled, as her lungs petitioned for oxygen, she feebly summoned her strength and expressed her bewilderment when the scenery evaporated. Leah found herself lying beneath a timber, fingers clamped around her throat, eyes watering with moisture, appendages vibrating from shock. She sniveled with dismay.

Dubiously, Leah shambled back to the soul of the wildwood, to her initial position, where she had faced the healing tree, and she focused on sustaining her mental barriers. Once she confronted the resonating topiary, she dabbed the roots, convulsed, and insufflated fervently when the poison was expelled from her system. She promptly hoisted herself on one of the low branches and permitted the magical greenery to insulate her.

Diminutive hoots, belonging to a distant source, suffused with petty taps. Leah rocketed when susurrations issued from the land beyond her reach; she hushed her spasmodic breaths, waiting, with amplified abilities derived from the reverberating sapling, for her enemies. The muffled jeers intensified. With her heart drubbing in an irregular fashion, she readied herself for the onslaught, and, after catching a glimpse of a warrior stationing himself on a seedling with his lips producing realistic hoots, she departed from her safe haven.

Serially, a squad of agile troopers descended from their hideouts, accelerated toward her, and encircled her, which further unnerved her. When the combatants hounded her, she hysterically deflected the immortals who had dissimulated with the land by zigzagging through the timbers, nimbly eluding the outskirts of the Dark Forest, and wrangling with the sense of déjà-vu hovering above her shoulders. After coercing her contracting muscles to withstand the misery circulating her system, Leah took a gander at her opponents and wheezed with disheartenment when she could no longer see them.

She desisted from running and harkened.

A branchlet tottered while the others stayed still. Diligently, with adrenaline inundating her, she barreled, deceived her pursuers by sidestepping their traps, and rashly lurched toward the outskirts of the Dark Forest. She hoped the men would leave her alone, but heed continued to flow through her system; the barbarian might be lurking behind the boundary separating the two territories.

"Stop! We only wish to aid you! Do not leave the Dark Forest!"

Leah floundered when the effulgence seized her. Slightly dazed, she clambered until she was upright and eyed the hawkers in a rather detached manner; she felt as if her mind had created a fantasy world—a world she would permanently be ensnared in. The vibrations coasting in her direction reawakened her.

A multitude of perceptive varmints proceeded forward while inclosing her and their superior—an immortal who resembled the critter in her hallucination. The spirits residing in his irises screeched noisily, tenements shuddering, vital liquids squirting, deaths continuously playing in his eyes and cautioning her of her fate. Leah did not shrill when he neared her; she merely bypassed him and repeated until his cronies impelled her in his direction.

The huntsmen who had shadowed her surrounded the fiends while the leader of her pursuers shouted, "Plutus, leave the young lady alone!"

Plutus ventured forward with the intention of battering her, but she promptly parried his blow and searched for an escape in the midst of the mass. He inspected her and reevaluated his previous opinion of her physical capacity when she bonked him with her fist. Speedily, she batted one of his men and dislodged him in his direction, creating a momentary decampment. After avoiding her percussion, he thwacked her and blocked her passage with his frame.

"Judging by her abilities and knowledge, she is valuable. Who is she to King Lynceus?"

"Leave, Plutus!"

After noticing her lack of direct attention, Plutus took advantage of her sluggishness and stormed forward; he hastily snagged her cheeks and lobbed her away from the two forces who battled for dominance. She laid motionless, waiting for him to strike. Never one to miss an opportunity, Plutus approached her and tottered when she pounded him. He paused, eyes aflame with violent passion.

"Tell me, young one, what is your name?" Plutus questioned while encircling her. She wordlessly copied his movements and never removed her gaze from his.

"What is your relationship with—"

Impulsively, Plutus lunged with his hands extended. She readied herself for his assault and whooped when a brawny huntsman catapulted himself on Plutus. Startled, she warily tread backwards and rattled when her defender mutely advised her to slip into the opposing woods. Leah entered the new vicinity with palpitating eyelids. The stress imposed on her mind was starting to affect her negatively.

Leah continued to run until her lungs throbbed. When she ceased, the intonations coming from the wildlife consumed her. Languidly, she scaled a seedling and rested her pulsating head against the trunk. Once her contracting muscles slackened, the whistles and catcalls dwindled, causing her to become erect. A sonorous roar, followed by the pounding of paws and responding hisses, occurred near her. Leah insufflated harshly when figures prowled the territory beneath her; she crossed her fingers as she surveyed the animals tearing through the foliage and wafting the air. The creatures were strange with an illumined gaze, perked ears, fangs, and a limber frame that was covered with white fur and dark spots.

With calculated movements, the leader of the pack swerved and wadded her with a false sense of comfort when he merely cruised around her shelter. Leisurely, with ease and expertise, the chief escalated and apprised his companions. Leah zealously darted away from the pouncing monsters, hastened past the members who attempted to ambush her, and she ultimately plunged to the ground after regarding the leers exchanged between her opponents; she sped deeper into the heart of the timberlands to elude the stampede behind her, and she expired forcefully when the commander propelled himself forward. After exhibiting his salient dentures, he barraged Leah and peppered her with a combination of saliva and venom. Leah sibilated when the acid brushed her flesh, but she tactically waited for the head of the pack to assault her.

His horde dutifully flocked him. Laggardly, he sagged forward with the intention of puncturing her, of pelting her with his paws, of terminating her, but when he caught a glimpse of her hands flying to his neck, he retreated. Leah persecuted him and swiftly prodded him before indulging herself further by quickly clamping her hands over his shoulders and threatening to dislocate them; her serrated dentures perforated his flesh, thriving on the spasms that immersed his corpse, reveling fully on the agony sweeping over his features, and longing to permanently imprint the mark of her ivories onto his flesh for maiming her. With resentment bombarding her, she lacerated him and gnarred when he sprung forward with the intention of logging her away. Speedily, she dislodged her gall for the creature, for his group of cunning monsters, for his distrustful kind, and rendered him incapable of battle after clawing through his chest. The ceaseless thump, thump, thump, coming from his chest notified her of his condition.

An incensed bellow emanated from the alpha female, who, after thundering and instructing her inferiors to not interfere, traipsed forward with the intention of challenging her. Leah accepted. As she circulated her adversary, she recorded the manner in which she favored her left leg over her right, her distorted gaze, and her unconditional devotion to her mate. Her foe lanced herself on top of Leah, and, despite her previous knowledge of the behavior displayed by vengeful mates, she projected Leah to the far side of the vicinity. With impressive speed, the alpha female slogged, whopped, and showered her with her protective liquids. Leah barely harnessed her wails.

Leah repeatedly belted and socked her rival until she blundered. Instantaneously, she shimmed under her contender, clouted the side of her frame, which resulted in her deflating, and bonked her until she could no longer rise. When the alpha female blanched and mewled, her mate brandished all the strength he possessed and, once he was fully regenerated, he clubbed Leah. Using his advantage to its maximum capacity, he severed Leah's flesh by masticating it and injecting his venom into her bloodstream. She blared when the toxins saturated her organs. The oxygen flowing through her system promptly rushed from her lungs, causing her to bobble. Her opposer yowled before permitting his minions to dispose of her.

Bordering on delirious, she yipped and wilted. Beneath her, vibrations bustled in her direction. She jibbed but recovered emotionally when the creatures became stagnant. The alpha ululated when arrows skimmed their bodies. Her assailant seized his mate and fled with the majority of his companions. In the midst of the chaos, two stalwart males, accompanied by a petite female who executed a lingering animal with her weapon, manifested themselves in front of her. Leah recoiled but she cancelled her previous motions when the female dulcified her with her pacific voice.

"Admes, make sure you do not jostle her when you carry her. Any sudden movements can stretch her wounds and cause them to bleed more. Aristo, scout the area and make sure the other members of the pack do not follow us," she commanded before riveting her. "You will be safe with us. Do not worry for your well being. We will try our best to treat your wounds properly and provide you with a shelter."

The whir of the wildlife, of feet colliding with the terrain, of her heart bopping against her chest, and of her fitful exhalations, caused her to recede into the profound depths of her mind. She fleetingly wondered when this dream—this terrifyingly realistic nightmare—would end.

"Artemisia, the pack has left the vicinity," Aristo reported. "The alpha's mate has been harmed, but she will recover soon. Three members of the pack have been killed and two have been maimed. How is she?"

"We will find out once we reach our hideout," Artemisia recited.

A faint murmuration engulfed her.

"Delia, we found her fighting the Saeva Canum. Unfortunately, she was wounded during her fight and was injected with their poison," Admes orated.

"Oh my!" Delia exclaimed. "Lay her on the cot! Make sure you do not move her too much, Admes."

"How is she?" Admes questioned.

"She will be alright once I administer the antidote. Her body will react negatively, but that is normal since her body will be overworking itself to combat the poison," Delia verbalized. "You will be alright, young one."

A potent twinge tormented the pit of her stomach, hindering her from listening to her saviors, or catching the conversations brewing beyond the medical wing, or peering at her salvagers, who, after perceiving her shriveling frame, grew agitated. Her despair spanned across her form, blinding her from reality.

* * *

><p>An euphonic descant subdued her as she retired against his sturdy chest and brushed the tips of her fingers along his knuckles. When she felt herself progressively becoming more drowsy, she captured his hand, yawed, and probed the soul of the groves for the source of her lethargy. With bleary irises, she deliberately rotated and addressed the faceless figure whose stature remind her of a young child's. She orated and expressed her dejection when her eyelids drooped.<p>

Once she rejuvenated, she surmounted and hearkened intently for the symphonic tenor. When she could no longer hear it, she unwound her tenacious muscles and eyed her bedroom with dysphoria. Leah gradually plodded across her chamber, exited the vicinity, crept past her parents' room, and pranced across the lawn. Beyond her abode, she could envision a land full of adventure and fantasy—an escape from reality, a place where she would always feel accepted, and a location where she would always be desired.

As she frolicked with the penumbra, she visualized individuals gracefully waltzing beside her, wordlessly admiring her serenity when she performed an exquisite relevé, soundlessly encouraging her when she demonstrated a wobbly arabesque and supporting her as she gained experience with every failure. She could see her nameless comrade displaying a sublime arabesque, and she simply copied her motions until she heard her father respiring in an irregular fashion behind her. When she swerved, he praised her. Leah tittered and vocalized her answer after he questioned her on the source of her abilities.

After resurfacing from her hypnotic state, she contorted her facial features, groused, and scrutinized the nurse who daubed her forehead with a moist towel. She demurred but hesitated when her actions nicked her.

"Do not worry, dear," she soothed. "I fully understand that you are confused and do not know where you are, but you are safe. I have treated your wounds, but you must wait for them to heal properly. It is taking your body a bit of time to recover from the poisons. It seems that one is more potent than the other, and the effects will unfortunately be present for a long period of time."

"Thank you for treating me," Leah said gratefully even though her throat ached. "If you do not mind me asking, but what is your name?"

"Delia," she responded while beaming and adding a glow to her feminine features, which consisted of a round nose, an heart-shaped face, slender eyebrows, dark eyes framed by long eyelashes, a thin swarthy figure and mahogany waves. "Now, as the rules of propriety demand, what is your name?"

"Leah," she replied and her lips curved when Delia's infectious attitude affected her. "Delia, where am I?"

"You are currently in one of the groves in the Dark Forest. We are close to the kingdom that belongs to King Lynceus, the fair ruler of the Praeditos," Delia declared. "Our group hopes to arrive at the kingdom soon, or to encounter a rescue team or one of the members of the personal guard. We will be safe—or as safe as one can be during these times—in the kingdom."

"Delia, we need—"

An elfin figure with straight raven locks, sterling irises covered by dark eyelashes, nicely arched eyebrows, a pert nose, dimpled cheeks, and pallid flesh, which was dotted with faint freckles, strolled forward with her companions.

"Oh, we did not know you were awake. I am Artemisia, but you can call me Artemis. It is a pleasure to meet you," Artemisia communicated as she glided forward and stood beside Delia, who towered beside her.

"I am Admes, but you can call me Mes, and this is my brother, Aristo," Admes introduced before bowing slightly.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, miss," Aristo rehearsed while dipping his head respectfully.

"We are siblings," Artemisia clarified.

"Triplets to be more exact," Admes illustrated while assaying her.

Admes and Aristo surpassed their sister in height and even loomed above Delia, who was above average height for women; the two siblings shared a similar athletic build, but their facial features were distinct. Aristo was starkly different from his sister with unmarked tan flesh, blonde hair, contoured cheekbones, broad eyebrows, a regal jaw and nose, and dark gray eyes. Admes balanced his sibling's differences by having creamy calloused skin, henna hair, contoured cheeks, dark eyebrows, an oval face, a short nose, and bright sapphire eyes, which were smeared with streaks of sterling.

"Are you feeling alright?" Artemisia asked dubiously when she swayed but quickly managed to regain her strength.

"I feel fine," Leah reassured her. "I would like to thank all of you for helping me."

"You are welcome," Admes answered on his siblings' behalf.

As she continued to evaluate them, she noticed their slow, cautious movements, their concern and puzzlement.

"What is wrong?" Leah questioned.

"Leah, we know that you are not one of us," Delia divulged.

"What do you mean?" Leah prompted.

"While you were unconscious, we noticed that you are different from us in certain aspects. For example, your blood is a different color from ours," Delia delivered before showing her the dark blue substance leaking from Aristo's shoulder. She sprayed his injury with a liquid and watched as his skin rapidly repaired itself. "No one in this realm has red blood. Your body has the ability to shift, judging by the composition of your bones, and your mind holds close bonds with several other people. I apologize for intruding on your privacy, but part of my abilities—part of the reason why I am a healer—includes knowing a person's composition. You come from the human realm, where the most common mythical creatures are werwolves and vampires."

"There are two realms?" Leah repeated incredulously.

"Two separate realms exist," Artemisia confirmed. "When the world first began to develop, there was only one realm: the human realm. All the species lived together in harmony until greed and corruption sprouted. As a result, chaos began to brew. Vampires and werwolves became allies and threatened several other species, which forced them to search for an alternative option. War would have significantly lowered the population and disrupted our secrecy with the humans. To prevent war, several powerful leaders of every species were chosen to create another realm. Thankfully, they succeeded and saved innocent lives."

As she processed the information, her head tingled and unwelcome flashes of her realistic dream pullulated her mind. She promptly expelled it.

"Why am I here?" Leah questioned.

"We do not know," Admes orated, "but I have a theory. You must belong here. Perhaps, you have a mate here, or your life intertwines with the residents of this realm. Whatever the reason might be, you will be fine here. We will show you the ways of our people and help you adapt."

"Thank you," Leah conveyed. "Delia, you mentioned earlier that your group was hoping to encounter a rescue team."

"Yes," Delia affirmed. "Our group is composed of fugitives who wish to aid the kingdom and seek protection."

"Our job is to help other refugees who are wondering the forest and aid them. We also search for the rescue teams; people say that they roam the woodlands with the intention of helping those who no longer have a home," Artemisia announced. "If we cannot find them on the way, we will definitely face them when we approach the Tree of Life."

"According to our sources, Princess Carabelle and the future king of the Populus Fusca, Alcander, rove the forest," Aristo imputed.

"You know an awful lot about the royal family and their kingdom," Leah noted while the triplets exchanged an exclusive look with Delia.

"Our job requires it," Artemisia declared with conviction.

Vibrations veered in the direction of the infirmary. Without any wariness, a diminutive form traveled across the expanse of the medical wing and beamed in a charming fashion, which revealed the loss of two front teeth and one prominent dimple on her right cheek. With vibrant caramel ringlets, wide hazel eyes, long eyelashes that flirted with the tops of her rosy cheeks, she resembled a living, breathing porcelain doll. As she took a gander around the vicinity, she tittered and hopped forward.

"Hello!" she exclaimed, reminding her of her enthusiastic younger brother, Seth, who she missed with a great passion. "My name is Demetria Amos, and it is a pleasure to meet you! This is—oh!"

"I am really sorry for my sister's actions. Unfortunately, she loathes rules."

"It is alright," Leah admonished before closely surveying the runty frame hiding behind his legs. "My name is Leah."

"My name is Nicodemus, but you can call me Nico, and this is my younger sister, Cyrena," Nicodemus orated.

A dwarfish child with lucid tawny irises framed by dark eyelashes, a flawless creamy complexion, henna tresses, and a placid disposition, hesitantly peeked at her. Nicodemus, a brawny figure with the signature copper irises and auburn locks, seized his sisters and smiled at Demetria, who simpered and waved at Leah.

"You do not have to leave," Leah verbalized. "I feel fine. Can I meet the rest of your group? I think I can manage."

"Nico, can you fetch Acastus and Acacia?" Delia asked. He consented and released his sisters.

"Leah, this is Acastus and Acacia," Nicodemus introduced.

"You can call me Cas," Acastus added while grinning.

"And on behalf of my brother, I would like to formally welcome you to our group," Acacia declared.

Acacia and Acastus possessed similar features: intense ashen eyes, dark eyebrows, an unmarred pallid complexion, full lips, lustrous chestnut waves, and a tall, lithe frame.

Suddenly, she careened. Delia rapidly steadied her.

"You should rest, Leah," Admes stated. "When you are healthy once more, we will show you our ways."

"Rest, Leah," Delia persuaded as she stroked her perspiring forehead.

Fatigue suddenly claimed her.

A harmonious aria mollified her as she settled herself against his secure chest and skimmed his knuckles with the tips of her fingers. When she started feeling heavy and indolent, she nabbed his warm hand, veered, and prodded the heart of the thickets for the source of her drowsiness. She delved further into the woodlands for her comrade and found her sitting nearby, cerulean eyes betraying her low spirit. With an unfocused gaze, she sluggishly swerved and scrutinized her comrade; his visage languidly became more sharp and exposed his childish features, which consisted of a slightly rounded nose, an oval face with flustered cheeks, and wide azure eyes.

"Do I really have to go back home?" Leah questioned.

"You have to rest, Leah, but you will return soon," he promised. "We will make sure of it. For now, sleep."

Her eyelids rapidly declined.

Once she regenerated, she rose and listened attentively for the bewitching melody. When she could no longer hear it, she unfurled her compressed muscles and regarded her bedroom with restlessness. Leah carefully ambulated across her chamber, departed, shambled past her parents' room, and paraded across the lawn. Beyond her dwelling, she visualized her beloved land, where a kingdom with fair residents, exotic wildlife, and her comrades resided; she perfected her fantasy, her escape from reality, where she was always accepted and appreciated despite her distinct ways.

As she caroused with the umbra, she visualized familiar individuals cruising charmingly beside her, mutely applauding her tranquility when she demonstrated a flawless relevé, silently cherishing her when she performed an insecure arabesque and boosting her esteem when she failed but gathered experience with every blunder. After picturing her companion showcasing her abilities during practice, she duplicated her movements and floundered until her father expired behind her. She swerved and tittered when he clapped.

"You look beautiful, honey," her father verbalized warmly. "Where do you learn these moves?"

"I already told you, daddy," she vocalized while giggling. "Dara teaches my friends and I. She is a very good teacher! Today, she taught us the proper form for an arabesque. I am not that good, but I will perfect it soon! Hopefully by tomorrow's lesson!"

"Well, I think you have the capacity to perfect it by tomorrow," her father encouraged. "Now, it is time for my little ballerina to rest. Go on, Leah. Your mother and I will be there soon."

After entering her bedding chambers, she paid rapt attention to her father as he approached his bedroom and locked the entrance.

"Did she wake up again?"

"She did. She was dancing and, for a moment, I saw shapes. Human shapes. Sue, I do not know what is happening to Leah, but I know that it cannot be purely innocent," her father divulged, causing her to quake. "She experiences vivid fantasies, and, after every dream, she has new abilities. She dances like a professional even though we have never entered her in a dance class, she has different mannerisms from what we taught her; she runs at an incredible speed and sees objects that are difficult to see from a distance. I worry that she will be negatively affected by whatever is happening to her."

"Do you truly believe she is not normal?" her mother inquired, bordering on hysterical.

"I believe whatever is affecting her is not normal. I did not initially believe her when she talked about her encounters, but now I am beginning to see that she was telling the truth. She does not simply dream; she actually experiences those events, and now I worry. I saw moving shadows. I just wish to protect Leah, and those abnormal beings will harm her. We have to do whatever it takes to protect her."

"But what if it simply her imagination? She is gifted mentally; she aces her exams, and she is incredibly talented. She must have developed other talents while she studied," her mother verbalized, frightened yet pensive.

"What about the shadows?"

"Perhaps they are a figure of your imagination?" Sue asserted with moisture accumulating in her gaze. "But you are right. I worry about what is happening to Leah, but what if—what if she has been blessed with extraordinary powers, like the figures of our legends?"

"The creatures in our legends always protected their people."

"And Leah has not been harmed, which proves they do not wish to hurt her, only entertain her," Sue voiced. "I am beginning to lose my mind. Do you think we should consult with the rest of the elders?"

"That would be a wise decision," Harry concluded with a heavy heart.

Despair bombarded her.

When the resonating topiary materialized, a refulgent resplendence environed her. Swiftly, she glissaded away from the soul of the timberlands, eluded the umbrage stationed near the Tree of Life, hastened past the huntsmen patrolling the groves, and, when she neared the outskirts of the Dark Forest, she flung herself down the familiar chasm. Leah hysterically wailed and keened and squalled with forlornness as the perilous convulsions she had been suppressing suddenly assailed her.

While bemoaning and floundering, she beseeched and supplicated with a higher force to alleviate the misery circulating her chest; she whined, but, with a final string of laments, she ascended. She explored the cavern and delved further into her safe haven until she faced her comrade. With glistening irises, a grimace, and palpitating fingertips, she welcomed Leah forward.

"You are an extraordinary person with enhanced abilities," she declared, "but most importantly of all, you are Leah, a girl with a lovely soul and a great heart. One day, your parents will understand and value you for your differences."

"They believe you are evil," Leah recited. "They do not believe your intentions are pure."

"One day, they will understand," she reassured her, even though her voice fluctuated and her pupils dilated.

She suspired in an irregular manner as she awakened. After bridling her bewilderment and constraining the adrenaline fermenting in her core, she swiftly retired and exerted pressure on her appendages to hinder her from moving. By respiring in a rhythmic fashion, she tamed the thunderous tide of sentiments that had threatened to immerse her. Sluggishly, she disentangled her sore limbs, and, acting on pure instinct, traveled outside the medical wing.

The lambent splendor of the moonlight projected cavorting shadows. As she trekked across the expanse, her softening facial features hardened as she perceived the strange shapes carousing through the foliage. When her muscles became taut, her spine arched, and her mouth dispensed a droning noise, an impish frame sprung from the depths of the timberlands. The shadows ceased their movement.

"I apologize for frightening you," Cyrena murmured while casting her gaze downward. "Do you forgive me?"

"Of course," Leah responded, "but what are you doing awake? Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"I usually stay awake during the night and sleep for short periods of time during the day," Cyrena quietly informed her.

When she exposed her despondency, Leah cautiously asked, "Why do you sleep during the day?"

"I usually have vivid nightmares while I sleep. The nightmares are enhanced during the nighttime, but during the daytime, the dreams are less intense," Cyrena reported while a thin layer of perspiration appeared on her forehead. "Sometimes, I believe the illusions are heightened during the night because of my constant fear of the darkness and the monsters who lurk in it."

"Or your nightmares are actually more powerful during the nighttime and less intense during the daytime," Leah inserted as visions of her awakening in the middle of the night to the memory of a malevolent figure admonishing her materialized. She quailed.

"Did you have nightmares when you were younger?" Cyrena inquired with childhood innocence.

"When I was around your age, I would also have nightmares. At first, they were normal nightmares, but everyday, they would increase in intensity and vividness, until I could no longer sleep," Leah started. "I soon began to sleep during the day, which worried my parents. They were concerned about my health, about my behavior and mentality. One day, however, the nightmares began to decrease in strength. I could sleep during the day, until one day, the nightmares were flushed from my system. And the loveliest dreams would appear."

"Do you remember them?" Cyrena questioned, fascinated by the transfiguration.

"I actually do not remember the dreams clearly," Leah claimed. "I just remember the pleasant feelings I would experience after a dream."

How could she have forgotten the enchanting dreams?

"Did the bad dreams ever come back? Do you still experience them?" Cyrena prompted, eyes enlarging with fretfulness.

"Recently, actually," Leah divulged, astonished by her revelation. "Before I came to this realm, I had nightmares, but they are not the same as they were before. They are simple nightmares, which are not vivid nor frightful."

"But that is how they begin," Cyrena asserted. "You do not want to admit it to yourself, but you know that your nightmares begin with simple fears and then they become stronger and feed on your heed. Then, they overwhelm you until you cannot function properly."

"You are very astute," Leah remarked.

"I am just restating what you already know, what we already know," she emphasized but her irises warned her of her withdrawal of information.

"So do you usually wander alone?"

"No, my brother or one of the other members of our group patrols during the night; they make sure that our area is void of intruders and predators," Cyrena stated while lying on the greenery.

"Do you sleep walk?" Leah inquired instinctively when images of her awakening in the center of the forest behind her domicile flowed through her head. She had walked while she slept when she had nightmares.

"Sometimes," Cyrena answered.

While receiving the young girl in her arms, she hummed a familiar lullaby, which repelled her phantoms. Gradually, her muscles slackened, her chest heaved in a cadence fashion, and her eyelids depressed. The feeble darling resting against her reminded her of herself as a child: woeful but perceptive with an intense yearning to flee into a fantasy.

When the inkiness of the night receded and the fulgent sunlight befell on the land, Cyrena slumbered.

"Thank you for comforting her," Nicodemus verbalized as he rejected his shadowy half and advanced toward her. She gawked. "I have the ability to travel through shadows. I will explain our history in depth and our species, as well as our gifts, soon."

She complied, eying him as he whisked his sibling away; she tossed once but remained undisturbed and reposed.

Darkness suddenly devoured her.


	19. Vows

_Vows_

"Go to sleep, Leah. You haven't been sleeping lately," Jacob mentioned.

"And neither have you," Leah remarked without any harshness; her voice shifted, losing the remaining bits of hatred and bitterness and receding into the familiar hold of misery and exhaustion. Jacob knew what it was like. He knew what it felt like to abandoned by someone he had trusted, by someone he had loved. "But I'll take you on your offer, oh mighty alpha. If you find out any more information, contact me. I want to know what happens."

"Don't worry, Leah. Goodnight," Jacob added.

She bid him farewell before speeding back home and slinking into the shadows as she crept into her neighbors' backyards; she quietly marched to the end of the neighborhood, climbed the tree beside her house, and entered her bedroom through the window. Forcefully, she dispelled the memories of nervous laughter, of constant glances directed toward the entrance, of elated beams, smirks, raised eyebrows, and warm, sweaty hands slowly stroking the sides of her flushed face; she discarded the memories of stammers, of stumbles, of muffled groans and screams as he unsteadily mounted the branches of the tree outside her bedroom window; she hurriedly dismissed the memories of stolen kisses underneath the comforting hold of the starry sky, of proclamations of eternal love, of a bright, promising future, of innocent, inexperienced kisses.

The memories tormented her.

But she no longer cared.

She simply reveled in the agony.

But in the midst of her recollections, a brighter, stronger force with cobalt irises penetrated through her mental barriers, tranquilizing her. She envisioned pallid arms encompassing her by the waist, pulling her closer, dragging her closer to his reverberating chest, to _his heart_; she visualized glistening, sapphires irises, ignited with mirth, with serenity, with _affection_; she reveled in the sweet sound of his susurrations, of his guffaws, of his encouragements, of his understanding and loving words, which proceeded to flow through her ears, continued to fill her with warmth, with tenderness, _with love_. Beaming, chuckling with incredulity, she indulged herself further with lovely memories of broad grins, of _good-natured_ smirks, eye rolls, dimples, softening features, of surprising, impulsive adventures, of random photos capturing her momentary tranquility, of kisses on her forehead, of flustered cheeks, of spontaneous dancing, of traveling, and of silent vows.

_Vows of a bright future together_.

_Vows of eternal love_.

_And the promising, enlightening vows defeated the torturous memories_.


	20. Understanding

_Understanding_

The pack congregated in Sam's house. It was tradition. And an obligation for her.

From his peripheral vision, he exchanged intimate glances with his lover—her traitorous, conniving, simpering cousin—before grinning and beckoning her forward. Their chatter instantly faded.

"We have a big announcement to make," Sam declared and her heart hammered with uneasiness. "Emily is pregnant. We're expecting a baby girl. And we've decided to get married in a month from now."

"Just a small, comfortable wedding with our friends and family," Emily interjected, giggling when he unconsciously traced the side of her waist, stroking the child blooming in her womb.

"It's about time," Paul muttered, causing the remaining pack members to roar with laughter, with affectionate praises and good-natured innuendos, which stimulated them to enter into another fit of guffaws.

Leah simply stood erect when the atmosphere thickened, when the laughter became unbearably noisy, when their stretching smiles expanded to the point where their mouths contorted in a grotesque way; her frame fluctuated when the soothing, stroking hands mocked her, when their blazing irises burned her soul, when their hopeful dispositions blighted her faith. Shuddering, with her spine arching, with her heart walloping in her heaving bosom, she savagely extracted Jacob's scalding hands from her shoulders; she stormed out of the room, narrowly avoiding Sam, who bowed his head, unconsciously tranquilizing the babe blooming in his lover's womb—the baby who should have been created out of _their bond_, out of _their loving relationship_, out of _their sacrifices_ and _their trials _and _their affection_.

Blenching, struggling, heaving, she restrained herself from screeching, from bellowing with anguish and confusion. Constraining herself from mourning, from grousing and deploring, she encased herself with her arms; she hurriedly sheltered her heart from the betrayal swimming through her veins, threatening to poison her with bitterness. Repelled by their presences, by the curse they had placed her under, she traversed the timberlands and entered the secluded pub on the outskirts of La Push.

Flushed bodies—of scantily-clad women, of drunken, stumbling men, of those banished from society—mashed together, scraping against one another, blaring, laughing, and agonizing together.

She beckoned the bartender forward, and he knowingly passed her the strongest drink he possessed: vodka.

"Another," she repeated nine times. "Another."

Unconsciously, she ascended, exited, and pushed through her dizziness, through the pounding of her head, through the queasiness of her stomach, until she reached her destination. She wavered and wobbled but lumbered forward with her knees tottering and teetering, with her stare glazed over and her pupils dilated with adrenaline, with her lips temporarily etched with an elated beam; she screeched with joy, applauded to herself, and tittered with laughter, attracting the attention of the residents of that _fine _neighborhood.

* * *

><p>Leah tensed, pupils dilating, eyes enlarging, throat constricting, muscles contracting and compacting her; she croaked, frazzled and immersed by his presence, swamped by the sentiments gushing from her heart, coursing through her veins and submerging her completely. With perspiration gathering on her forehead, she clamped her jaw tightly, thwarted the tide of emotions bursting from her barriers, and she blearily accessed his cobalt irises—which were fogged by a sense of understanding.<p>

"I'm sorry for what happened last night," she rasped.

"It's okay. Don't worry about it," he commented, smiling but ultimately grimacing.

"Did anything happen?" Leah questioned.

"You just screamed to the top of your lungs and fell asleep. Don't worry, darling, nothing interesting happened. No drunken confessions," he joked, making her chuckle.

With flourishing affection, with a profound sense of friendly love and tenderness kindling in her bosom, with her eyes brimming with tears, she thrust herself into Drakon's arms, reveling in the firmness of his arms, in the softness of his flesh, in the warmth extending across her chest. Carefully, with soothing, feathery touches, he successfully tamed her howling emotions.

"Let's have breakfast," Drakon amended before grinning broadly and kissing her forehead. "Come on, darling."

And she smiled, thanking him for his _understanding_.


	21. Celestial & Cassiel

_Celestial & Cassiel_

She perspired and respired profusely as she stared at the multitude of laughing, blaring children, who joshed and joked and jumped around freely; she smiled nervously, with her heart hammering in her chest, with her blood pounding in her ears, with her stomach clenching in an uneasy manner. Tentative fingers squeezed her hands, easing her of her tension.

"Would you like the see the newborns?"

Leah consented, shaking with nerves when their attendant ushered them down the corridor leading to the newborns. Suddenly, from her peripheral vision, she caught a glimpse of two wheezing, hacking babies with ghastly complexions and tiny, fragile frames, which shook and quivered and quacked immensely. She halted before moving forward and touching the glass separating her from the two newborns.

"What is wrong with them?" Drakon questioned.

"They're sick. They were born a few days ago, and their mother gave them up for adoption, but they've been sick ever since they were born," she reported sorrowfully. "We've been taking care of them, but they're very young. Too young. And our resources might not be enough."

"What are their names?" Leah asked without removing her gaze from the babies.

"Their mother never named them," she recited.

"So they don't have any names?" Drakon prompted, appalled.

"No names," she repeated. "Shall we continue?"

"No," Leah declared.

"No," Drakon supported. "We want to see them."

"But—"

"Please," Leah pleaded. "Please."

Deliberately, she traveled forward and monitored the pair of twins, whose emerald irises blearily stared at her, whose runty frames slowly twisted in her direction, wordlessly persuading her to reach out and cradle them, to nurture and love them. She nursed the squirming girl while Drakon comforted the yawning, yipping boy. Very languidly, their heads lulled to the side, and their mouths stretched with soft smiles.

"Are they up for adoption?" Drakon asked.

"They're very sick, sir—"

"Are they up for adoption?" he repeated.

"They are," she stated. "They certainly are."

"When can we adopt them?" Leah questioned.

"Usually, the process is very long, but considering that they need a suitable home soon and you two are able to economically provide for them, you just need to sign some forms and agreements," she vocalized. "Are you two sure?"

"Extremely," Leah affirmed before cooing at the drooling child.

"I will bring you two the forms," she excused.

When she vacated the infirmary, she neared Drakon, who tended to the drowsy child and kissed his sweaty forehead.

"What will we name them?" Drakon asked.

"Celestial and Cassiel—two heavenly names that will protect them for the rest of their long lives," Leah proclaimed.

"They're beautiful," he whispered. "Once we sign the papers, we will bring them to the hospital and take proper care of them. I'll ask Carabelle and Alcander to buy another cradle and put it in the nursery."

"I really do hope they'll get better," Leah murmured before tenderly pressing her lips to both of their cheeks.

"With you as a mother, they will," he declared, making her smile.

"Did you two decide on their names?"

"Their names are Celestial and Cassiel," Leah announced with blossoming pride, with flourishing affection and motherly love.

Drakon transferred Cassiel to her while he finalized the papers.

"Well, congratulations to you two. I honestly hope everything goes well," their attendant verbalized.

"Thank you," Drakon replied with sincerity before properly bundling up the children and demonstrating to their attendant that they were completely prepared for the two children. There, in the backseat of the car, were two car seats—one that they had recently bought and one that had been given to them as a gift from her mother-in-law.

"Have a good day," she vocalized before settling the children in their seats and heating up the car. "Your mother is extremely perceptive."

"She certainly is," he responded before winking at her and glancing at the two newborns with softening eyes. "They'll be fine."

And they were. Their health drastically improved. And she couldn't be any happier with _her two babies_, with _her two heavenly angels_, with _her two miracles_.


	22. Positive

_Positive_

It came out positive.

She quivered.

How could it?

She was infertile, damned to never have children; she had been told—no, she had been reassured—that she would never give birth to a child.

A sudden outburst reawakened her. She rushed to the nursery, instinctively coddling Celestial, who quickly quieted down, smiling and giggling up at her. Her features instantly softened.

"There's my little girl and my beautiful wife," Drakon remarked, admiring her motherly instincts. "And where is my baby boy? Still sleeping?"

"He's much more calm than his sister," Leah commented, laughing nervously.

"What's wrong, Leah?" Drakon asked after noticing the inflection in her voice.

After laying Celestial in her cradle, she unconsciously touched her stomach.

"I'm pregnant," she whispered.

Wide-eyed and wide-mouthed, he strolled forward; his fingers gently brushed the side of her waist, stroking the baby blooming inside her.

"You're pregnant," he repeated before grinning broadly. "That's fantastic, Leah!"

"But I was told—"

"But remember what my mother said when you told her you were infertile," Drakon reminded her.

"Impossible," she recited, smiling. "She said it was impossible and that we would have our own children."

"Oh, Leah, this is fantastic news! Now we're going to have three beautiful babies," he murmured before kissing her forehead. "I love you, Leah. So much. I'm going to go call my mother."

It came out positive.

And she smiled with genuine joy.


	23. If

_If_

"If you could rewind the past and fix what happened between you and Sam, if you could somehow stop Emily from going to La Push, if you could stop him from imprinting on her, if you could stop yourself from imprinting on me, if you could stop your father from dying, if you could—"

She shushed him.

"I would never change what happened in the past. It made me who I am now. It taught me lessons. And it gave me a bright future. It gave me a united family, love, and happiness, and I would never change what happened," Leah stated. "Everything that I went through was necessary for me to achieve complete happiness and gratefulness. I love you but you really need to stop plaguing yourself with these questions."

She giggled and he chuckled, capturing her from the side and kissing her flustered cheeks.

"I love you," Drakon murmured against her skin. "I really do."

"Good because you aren't getting rid of me anytime soon."


	24. Drowsiness

_Drowsiness_

It was twilight.

And she was extremely tired from patrolling.

Gradually, with her tenacious muscles slackening, with her fluttering eyelids depressing with every passing second, with her bosom ascending and descending in a steady fashion, she forcefully repressed her lolling head from landing on his rising chest. Yawning, with her eyelids waning significantly, she stilled but ultimately relaxed when he supported her; his arms slowly slithered across her shoulders, towing her closer and closer until her head rested on the crook of his neck. Humming a charming lullaby, he pacified her further and warded off her phantoms.

She complied, tossing once but ultimately remaining undisturbed. Leah reposed, contented by his warmth, by the serenity of his lovely voice, by his mere presence.

It was noon when she awakened.

And she was feeling extremely rejuvenated.

Reawakened, she blearily regarded the smiling, simpering man whose waist she had ensnared, whose body she had latched onto, whose eyes radiated genuine happiness. Quickly, with her cheeks blazing, with her heart hammering unsteadily in her chest, with her eyes widening with every passing second, she simply stared at him.

"You feel asleep and I didn't have the heart to wake you up," Drakon explained, grinning.

"I am so sorry!" Leah apologized. "You must have been awake for a while now."

"No, I just woke up a few minutes ago," he amended.

"You usually wake up at the crack of dawn," she retaliated while crossing her arms.

"And you know that how?" Drakon questioned, flustering her further.

"Your sister told me," she added hastily.

"I'll chose to believe you—at least, for now," he stated before chuckling and tousling her messy hair. "You haven't been sleeping lately, and so I thought that you needed to sleep. I didn't wake you, and you got your well deserved sleep."

"And how do you know that I haven't been sleeping?" Leah questioned, mimicking him.

"My sister told me," he recited before smirking and winking. "But honestly, you look really exhausted most of the time. And it's starting to show. You should really sleep, darling, and have time for yourself. I wouldn't want you to get sick over this."

"Fine," Leah proclaimed with a sincere smile. "I'll take your advice, but if you see me coming in through your window at night, don't call the cops."

"I wouldn't dare," Drakon mentioned while chortling. "Come on, I'll make you breakfast."

And from then on, she would always return after her nightly patrol, and, feeling drowsy, would fall asleep on his chest with his arms securely wrapped around her shoulders.


	25. Harry Clearwater

_Harry Clearwater_

"Daddy, you were a remarkable man," she proclaimed while sniveling and sniffling. "Mommy would always tell me stories of when I was younger, of how you would carry me around in a kangaroo bag, of how I would giggle and stare up at you, while you protected me and made funny faces for me so I could continue to laugh. I was your first child—your baby girl. And you were deliriously happy. You celebrated every single day; you stocked up on Doctor Seuss books, even though I destroyed them later on and used them as tiles to walk on."

She momentarily stopped, keened and whined under her breath. But slowly, she started to chuckle.

"I would write on them. Well, it was more like I would scribble on them and pretend to read. You bought me the entire collection and I destroyed the entire thing! But you didn't mind. You liked to hear me make up stories. You liked looking at my artsy scribbles. And you would always encourage me to continue!"

Tweaking her lips, she proceeded onward: "And when mommy was pregnant, you couldn't be more ecstatic. Everyday, you would kiss her stomach, talk to baby Seth, and then kiss her. Everyday, you would proclaim your eternal love for her, and then you would joke around with her and say that mom always secretly loved you until one day she exploded. And then mom would say, 'I only went out with you because, when you were backtracking, you tripped over a tree root and fell and hit your head and I felt bad,' which always made you laugh. You two were such a beautiful couple. I've always admired you two. Always. I've always wanted to have a relationship like yours. Always. On Saturday mornings, you would make the bacon and mommy would stir the eggs and together you would make a picnic for lunch and we would go out. On Sundays, we would go to church, but after it, we would eat ice cream or go to a diner or watch a movie together. During the weekdays, I would always see you two cuddling on the couch, holding hands, and, when she would fall asleep, you would always, always admire her and kiss her forehead. You two were beautiful together. So beautiful."

Her voice softened.

"You would always treat me like a princess, and you wanted me to be treated by a princess by whoever I married. You always told me to never settle for anyone who didn't treat me like one. And daddy, after a few years, after everything that I went through, I finally found someone who treats me like one. Everyday, he makes me breakfast and I take care of the deserts. Everyday, when I wake up in the morning, he's there, admiring me. Everyday, he kisses my forehead and tells me that he loves me. On Saturdays, we go out for picnics or lunch or sometimes we stay in. On Sundays, we go to church and then have dinner with our family and friends. And it's beautiful. It's very beautiful, daddy. And I'm happy. Really, truly happy. I love him. And he loves me. And daddy, don't worry because he always treats me like a princess. Always."

She beamed broadly.

"I love you, daddy. I really do. But I have to go now. I just wanted to tell you that I'm finally happy. That you don't have to worry about me anymore. I love you."

She smiled before leaving.

_And the wind whispered, "I love you, princess."_


	26. Kiss On The Cheek

_Kiss On The Cheek_

She, Leah Clearwater, was flustered.

In an overwhelmingly spontaneous burst of energy and emotion, she had unconsciously flung herself into his arms, astonished him and herself with her willingness, with her instinctive actions, which prompted her to lean forward, steady his trembling shoulders with her steady hands, and peck his cheek with her lips.

She was flustered.

Afterward, she had merely observed him as his cheeks blossomed with color, as his lips broadened, as hope and merriment ignited in his irises. She had smiled before retracting and extracting herself from him—before digesting the severity of her actions. They could never become a couple; she was not mentally capable of being in a relationship. She could not—

"Darling, can you come down? We need to talk," Drakon verbalized. "Darling, hiding on the tops of trees is not going to resolve your problems. Just come down. We need to talk."

Huffing, with her heart hammering, with her breaths shortening, with trepidation coursing through her system, she descended and crossed her arms with her eyes narrowed.

"What did you want to talk about?" Leah inquired; her voice harsh and steely.

"Darling, we are friends. I understand that. You understand that. Everyone understands that. But what I don't understand is why you are acting like this," Drakon uttered; his tenor soft but steady.

"Acting like what?" Leah asked, growing frustrated.

"You're acting as if you committed a horrible crime, but you haven't. We are friends—nothing more, nothing less. And kissing me on the cheek is not going to do anything. It just strengths our friendship. I promise you that I will never take advantage of you or make up some insane thought that you are my girlfriend simply because you kiss me on the cheek," Drakon vocalized while disentangling her arms.

"I guess I did overact," Leah amended, "but if you ever break that promise, I will not hesitate to—"

"Chop me up into pieces," he finished before chuckling. "I know, darling. I know. Now, friends?"

"Friends," she confirmed.

"But you know, I really wouldn't mind it if you kissed me on the cheek more often," he mentioned before avoiding her playful swats.

"Oh, shut up," she added while grinning.


	27. Sam Uley

_Sam Uley_

His name was Sam Uley.

He was not particularly handsome, nor was he the best athlete, nor was he the best student, but he excelled at making her smile and laugh with glee. And that was more than enough.

His name was Sam Uley.

He had long, black hair, swarthy skin, and dark brown eyes. No, he was not particularly handsome, but he was adorable, especially when he stumbled over his words, especially when he staggered and tripped and toppled over when he was trying to act smooth. And that was more than enough.

His name was Sam Uley.

He was her best friend since birth—her confident, her first boyfriend, her first kiss, her first love. Oh, he was most certainly her first love. Her clumsy but enchanting lover. And he was more than enough.

His name was Sam Uley.

But he was no longer her boyfriend. No, he was no longer her lover. Or her friend. Or even her acquaintance. He had broken her heart; he had stomped on it. He had destroyed it. He had killed it. She had not been enough.

But Emily had been.

And he had been, too.

His name was Sam Uley.

And he gazed at her cousin with affection.

And he simply stared at her with pity.

She had not been enough, but he had been.

His name was Sam Uley.

And she screamed his name with hatred. With an intensive, long-lasting hatred. She had not been enough, but he had been. How could she not have been?

She had been an extremely extraordinary teenager with ambitions, with a promising future, with stacks of college offers, with a horde of chirpy friends, with an excellent reputation, with a perfect, unified family.

How could she have not been enough?

How could he have been enough!

His name was Sam Uley.

And he had never been more than enough. He had never been enough. She had never been the problem. She had always been more than enough; she had been extraordinary. He had always been the problem. He had never been enough.

His name was Sam Uley.

And he was her ex.

He had been exterminated from her life.

And for the first time in her life, she understood.

She should never lower herself and accept a relationship in which she was not treated the way she deserved.

He had made her smile with his declarations, but he had never fallen through.

He had made her laugh, but her laughter was never permanent.

He had not stayed with her when her father died; he had abandoned her.

He had killed her.

His name was Sam Uley.

And she would no longer grieve over him.


	28. Valentine's Day

_Valentine's Day _

She awoke to the familiar fragrance of peppermint.

Slowly, she peeked at him and found him grinning at her.

"Happy Valentine's Day, darling," he whispered before kissing her forehead.

"It isn't Valentine's Day," she stated, confused. "It's in three days."

"Well, everyday should be Valentine's Day if you truly love someone. You should be treated nicely everyday and cherished and loved. One day shouldn't dictate how you act; you should act like it everyday," Drakon clarified before she smooched him.

"Honestly, you are one of the most extraordinary people I've ever met. I love you," Leah said before snuggling with him.

"And you're one of the loveliest I've met. I love you, Leah Clearwater," he proclaimed, making her smile, "and Happy Valentine's Day."

Everyday should be Valentine's Day.

And it would be.


	29. Not Her First

_Not Her First_

Inspired by Bob Marley

He was not her first or her only. She had loved before. But it didn't matter. She loved him now—and that was all that mattered. She wasn't perfect—but he wasn't either. They would never be perfect, but she made him happy; she made him think twice. She made him admit his mistakes and want to be a better person. He always strived to make her happy, to make her laugh, to make her smile, to make her feel better whenever she was feeling down. He always held onto her and gave her the best he had.

He gave her all his love.

And received hers in return, even though she had been broken.

But she knew that he would never break her.

He would never change her or analyze her or expect anything more than what she could give.

And he always grinned when she made him happy.

And he always missed her when she was not around.

And he always made his love for her known because, even though he was not her first, she loved him now and that was all that mattered.


	30. Shattered

_Shattered_

Howling, bawling, and yowling, she violently tossed and turned and thrashed; she resisted and constrained her instinctual desires, but, when her heart began walloping her chest and beating against her rib cage, she faltered. Instantly, the treacherous emotions ensnared her heart, infiltrated it, and manipulated its strings without remorse. With her heart swelling, she combatted the force distending across her chest, settling at the pit of her stomach, and sending a violent swarm of butterflies which beat their long wings against her, hurting her physically, emotionally, spiritually. Growing increasingly fearful, she vainly defended herself against the torrent of catastrophic sentiments eagerly wriggling into her mind, tormenting her. Her lungs figuratively shrunk. And she could not breathe. Her temples throbbed. And she screeched. Her limbs were weak. And she could not move. Her eyes were wet with fresh tears. And she cried. And cried. And she could not stop crying.

Hesitant hands encompassed her by her waist, dragging her closer until her head landed on his collarbone. As she collapsed, as her defenses crumbled, as she lamented the loss of her independence, he consoled her by rubbing her shoulders, smoothening her sweat-drenched locks, and swiping the perspiration lining her forehead with his thumbs.

"I am so sorry," he apologized.

Her throat was clogged. So she could not speak. And she did not want to. She did not want to speak to the man who had damned her.

"I understand why you do not want this bond, and I am sorry for seeing you. If I had stayed away for the remainder of your stay, you would not have seen me and you would not be forced to accept this bond. I am so sorry. So sorry. I was being selfish. I knew what would happen. I am so sorry. So, so, sorry," he continued. "Just accept the bond, so your health can improve. We can be friends, nothing more. We can be acquaintances, but please accept the bond. I do not want you to get worse. Please, Leah. I will not force you to do anything that you do not want to do. Just accept the bond. Please."

She had imprinted.

And her heart purred with approval.

But she sobbed and trembled with anguish.

Her convulsions stopped. But she quivered with fear.

Her temples stopped throbbing. But her heart continued to palpitate.

Her throat cleared. But she could not speak.

Her lungs expanded. But she could not breathe properly.

_She was shattered. Much too shattered. _


	31. Going Back

_Going Back _

She was nervous.

Exceedingly so.

But she had to do it.

She had to go back.

"You're going to do fine," he reassured her.

But she continued to shake with nervousness.

"Leah, I promise you that you are going to do fine. No, no, you're going to excel. And one day, you're going to laugh at how nervous you were. I promise," he declared, making her huff.

"Fine," she stated before entering her classroom and choosing the seat closest to the door.

It was a creative writing class.

She trembled with dread.

"Hello, your name is Leah, right?"

She was tall and skinny, shy but curious, intelligent but kind.

"Leah Clearwater," she repeated while swallowing. "My name is Angela Webber. I was wondering if anyone was sitting here."

It was an empty seat.

But she did not know that.

She could easily lie and refuse her silent invitation of friendship.

But for some weird, inexplicable reason, she said, "It's empty and it's nice to meet you."

Angela Webber smiled.

And that is how their friendship started.

And that is how she noticed her attitude was changing.

It was changing slowly but surely.

"Alright, class, my name is Professor Linda, and, as your first assignment, I would like you to describe a situation in which you were in love—or if you were not in love, create a character that was," Professor Linda—a short, elderly woman with compassionate eyes and white hair—recited while smiling broadly at her hesitant class. "Go on, go on! Anyone who wants to volunteer later to read has my permission."

She wrote and wrote and wrote, freely expressing her frustration, her resentments, her fears and aversions, but slowly, her writing morphed and sounded clearer, calmer, more content.

And that is how she noticed she was no longer bitter.

"Any volunteers?"

It was silent until Angela timidly stepped forward.

"Usually, when someone falls in love—at least in movies, it's a sunny day, full of revelations, full of excitement and happiness and nerves. In real life, though, it's a bit different. At least, it was for me. I was sixteen. I was foolishly, blindly in love with someone who had been my childhood friend, who had played chess with me, who had collected comic books and had listened to me moan on and on about how Loki was definitely a misunderstood character. But, slowly, those talks evolved—or should I say, they lessened. He matured—well, I matured and he became slightly more immature—and he stopped listening and started acting. Acting really foolish. He helped me report, but he was a bit on the flirtatious side—not only with me, but with everyone. But my mind interpreted it differently. He was paying attention to me. He was showing interest. So, the day I finally registered that I had fallen in love with him, it had not been a sunny day; it had been a rainy day, full of confusion, full of puzzlement but happiness. How had I fallen in love with him? It didn't matter at the time, but it never does. It only matters after the heartache happens. And I guess I'll start my story there. The story with how I fell in love but slowly fell out of love in several painful but useful stages," Angela finished while blushing. "I'm sorry, that's all I have for now."

Everyone applauded her, including herself.

"That was lovely, Angela," Professor Linda commented before beaming broadly.

And when she sat down, with her cheeks blazing but with her eyes shining with contentment, she leaned over and instinctively said, "That was really beautiful. You really have some nerve. I admire that."

Angela simply smiled, wordlessly thanking her.

"Any more volunteers?"

Cautiously, she tread forward.

"His name was Sam. And he was not particularly handsome but he was adorable, especially when he tripped and tottered and toppled over when he tried to be smooth. His name was Sam. And he made me smile and laugh with happiness. He was adorable, exceedingly so. His clumsiness progressed when he hit puberty, and I teased him about his lankiness, about his awkwardness, but I secretly loved it. I secretly loved him. He stumbled over his words when he asked to be his girlfriend, but I giggled and kissed his cheek and accepted. We were sweethearts. Friends since birth. Companions through our preadolescent years. We knew everything about each other. And our relationship was basically a fairy tale. But not all fairy tales end happily. Some end with sorrow, with remorse, with sadness and fear. But mine is complex. It started with him. His name was Sam Uley. And he was my dream," she rehearsed before clearing her throat and facing Professor Linda, who clapped for her.

Everyone clapped.

And Angela smiled from her seat.

"Beautiful piece, Leah," Professor Linda stated while grinning. "Well, class has ended. I will see all of you tomorrow. Have a good day!"

"You too," Leah declared before exiting and abruptly stopping.

"Leah, that was amazing!" Angela exclaimed before flushing with color and traveling in the opposite direction. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Bye!" Leah called before walking toward the entrance and seating herself in the familiar truck stationed in front of the building.

"How was it, darling?" Drakon asked.

"It was good. Really good," she stressed, making him chuckle.

"Good to know, darling," he stated before starting the engine.

"I think going back to school was one of the best decisions I've ever made, but I wouldn't have made it by myself. Thanks for being there," she whispered, making his lips widened.

"No problem, darling," he responded while grinning.


	32. Leah Clearwater

_Leah Clearwater _

She had bewitching features—fiery, passionate eyes, which flared with an intimidating ferocity, high cheekbones, slender eyebrows, full lips, which were a beautiful shade of russet, and short, cropped hair, which barely grazed her chin and sparked his interest.

Her name was Leah Clearwater.

And she was stunning.

She was tall and lithe with slender muscles and calloused skin; she devotedly battled against her enemies, against unnatural beings with impressive abilities, against vicious beasts who threatened the safety of humankind.

Leah Clearwater was a warrior: fast, stealthy, defensive.

She was entrancing, especially when she unconsciously gnawed on her lips, when she instinctively shielded her brother from the horrors of the world, when she simply raised her head, when she ignored the vicious rumors about her whereabouts, when she simply jutted her jaw, faced her fears, and conquered her aversions with her head held high.

Her name was Leah Clearwater.

And he wished to know more about her.

And he would.

He certainly would.


	33. Death

_Death_

He had died.

Her father had died.

She stood motionless with her heart racing, with her blood pounding in her ears, with her eyes staring blankly at the floor.

Her father had died.

Suddenly, she collapsed, chest heaving, heart slamming against her chest, temples throbbing.

Her father had died.

She screamed and sniveled and shrieked with all her might.

He had died!

Her father had died!

She sobbed and wept hysterically.

She bellowed and held herself upright with her arms.

Her father had died; he had died. He had died. He had died.

She could barely breathe.

He had died.

And she could barely live with herself.


	34. Acceptance

_Acceptance_

As she stared at the two lovers cradling and nurturing their newborn child, as she narrowly avoided their adorable toddler from crashing into her legs, as she surveyed her cooing pack mates, she cracked a smile.

Slowly, with steady hands, she swooped down and seized Lila, who giggled and clapped her hands together, drawing her parent's attention; the two smiled, wordlessly conveying their merriment.

With an alleviated heart, she smiled back.

It no longer hurt.

She had finally accepted her fate.

She had finally accepted her life.


	35. Bitter Silence

_Bitter Silence_

It was too much.

She couldn't deal with it.

Upon seeing her darling father lying in his coffin, upon seeing the ghastliness of his visage, his pallid eyelids, his lack of expression and liveliness, she started to shake; she trembled and then convulsed violently before plunging to the ground and closing her eyes. While gritting her teeth, she withered against the hands that snatched her from the ground, swept her away from her deceased father, and laid her on the ground, where she tossed and turned.

With her spine cracking and elongating, with her jaw clenching and widening, with her muscles constricting and finally loosening, she exploded into a beast. Into a monster. She howled with confusion, with fury, with anguish.

"Leah, calm down."

It was Sam.

Unwillingly, images of their beautiful encounters, of their beautiful past, flowed through her head before entering through his head. He stood still, spine still, paws still with sorrow. Vengefully, she summoned memories of his instinctive betrayal, of his wandering eyes, of his admiration toward her cousin and finally his ultimate action: his ultimate decision to dump her, to throw her away like trash and claim her cousin as his eternal lover.

He flinched.

And she reveled in his discomfort.

"You're a protector. It's our duty to help the people of La Push," Sam revealed.

"And it's also our duty to betray others? To destroy them emotionally? Some protector you are," she muttered, making him recoil.

She grew stronger, fiercer, but sadder, especially when he stared at her with pity.

"I'm sorry, Leah, but I'm hoping that someday you will understand and accept what has happened. I imprinted on your cousin, Emily, and it's our fate to be together," Sam exposed. Her heart clenched. Her eyes narrowed. Her body shook.

It was too much.

She couldn't deal with it.

And she didn't.

She ran away, leaving him behind.

She sought her father—his warm, welcoming hands, which rubbed and patted her back and stabilized her, his understanding gaze, his reassuring murmurations which always, always tranquilized her.

But he was gone.

She stood in bitter silence, watching and waiting.

Watching her father get lowered down into the ground.

Waiting for his guests to leave.

But when they left, it was too late; he was gone, buried six feet under.

She stood in bitter silence, crying, sobbing, howling.

Goodbye, daddy.


End file.
